James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nerves_of_ice) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
milliways_bar2017-02-01 06:01 pm
nerves_of_ice) wrote in milliways_bar2017-02-01 06:01 pm
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(no subject)
Another day, another city. He's not sure how long he'll be in this one - weeks, maybe a month or two, if he's lucky. He hasn't been lucky for a half-year or so now, but there's nothing to do about that except stay ready, and move when he needs to.
He'd picked the apartment because it was high up in the building. He prefers it that way; it lets him watch from various angles and lines of sight when he needs to, and gives him quick access to the roof and escape.
Not that he can see much from inside at the moment, of course, having just finished taping newspaper -- multiple thicknesses -- over the windows. It helps; the lines of text and distortion of blurry newsprint photos disguise any shadows that he might cast from within.
James takes a moment to look around. It's got everything he needs; sleeping bag unrolled on the cheap mattress in the corner, the windows (now covered), washroom no bigger than a closet, kitchenette barely bigger than that, even complete with the unimaginable luxury of a full-size fridge...
... ah. Food. Right.
He's not hungry, but food's the fuel that's necessary to keep going. It's too late to go to the market now, though. Instead, he goes to the apartment door, and opens it into Milliways.
He'd picked the apartment because it was high up in the building. He prefers it that way; it lets him watch from various angles and lines of sight when he needs to, and gives him quick access to the roof and escape.
Not that he can see much from inside at the moment, of course, having just finished taping newspaper -- multiple thicknesses -- over the windows. It helps; the lines of text and distortion of blurry newsprint photos disguise any shadows that he might cast from within.
James takes a moment to look around. It's got everything he needs; sleeping bag unrolled on the cheap mattress in the corner, the windows (now covered), washroom no bigger than a closet, kitchenette barely bigger than that, even complete with the unimaginable luxury of a full-size fridge...
... ah. Food. Right.
He's not hungry, but food's the fuel that's necessary to keep going. It's too late to go to the market now, though. Instead, he goes to the apartment door, and opens it into Milliways.
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"Her cinnamon rolls are amazing."
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"Well, I suppose we'll have to see about that."
She's never been able to abide not being the best.
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"If the two of you get into a -- I don't know, a bake-off, or whatever -- I'd be glad to help taste."
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She smiles. He's beginning to remind her of someone: not in looks, but in... other aspects.
"I will certainly bear your kind offer in mind, in the event of a - dispute."
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"Least I can do."
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